


Talk is overrated

by sendurlocation



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, DNF, Death, Death of a friend, Depression, Dreams, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, a character dies, dream team, dreamnotfound, george being a good friend, pure angst, talk is overrated, that one time where you listen to a song and its a vibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendurlocation/pseuds/sendurlocation
Summary: Clay loses a friend close to him and spirals. Until he finds a light at the end of the tunnel.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 17





	Talk is overrated

  
  


He ghosted over the keys on his keyboard. "I…" Clay started to speak but words wouldn't come to the forefront of his mind. Rereading the message over and over again.

His entire world had come crashing down on him, how could this be? How could someone that he loved so much, be gone? Like they had never existed in the first place. He didn't understand how someone could just fade to memories that quickly.

"Fuck." Clay cursed. He cursed the universe, god, the world. He cursed everyone and everything. 

He cursed the universe, because out of the billion humans on earth and countless extraterrestrial beings that had to be out there. It had chosen the one that was close to him, the one that would hurt him.

The man cursed god, even if he didn't believe in a higher being. It just felt like the right thing to do. Growing up he heard at funerals. "It was god's timing." or "They're going to a better place."

But, Clay didn't want them to go to a better place, he wanted them to stay with him. He knew that made him incredibly selfish, but he didn't care. 

Subconsciously, his fingers had done the work his mind refused to do and typed a tweet explaining his situation. A childhood friend had passed away, he didn't know when the next video or stream was going to be, and he was going to be taking a break from social media. All information he thought his fans needed to know. No matter how shit he felt at the moment, he didn't want to just disappear on his fans.

He’d fallen off of the face of the earth before. The closest thing to death that you could get in his opinion. It was the way people only talked about you through shared memories. Like a dead person. It becomes a pattern of nothing but, _‘I remember when.’_ or _‘do you remember.”_ It was so eerily close to death. So close to what he’d start doing with that friend. With other people that remember them. Loved them, cherished, and made memories with them. But that’s all they were now- a memory. A fragment of the past only stored in the minds that knew them. Like a candle when you blow it out. For a while the scent lingers as their memories linger. But after a while the scent is gone, only lingering in the inner workings of your mind. Until even there it becomes foggy. Did the candle smell like lavender, maybe vanilla, or both? Was there laughter quiet or loud? Somewhere in between? How did their touch feel? How tight did they hug you?

He was snapped out of his train of thought by a ringing. He recognized the ringtone. It was George calling him. He picked up the phone and just like his fingers had ghosted over the glowing green button. “Not right now..” He whispered his finger gliding to the red button. 

_ Pick up. _

A message from George read and Clay didn’t have the energy to fight it. He pushed the green button and before George could even start to speak. All his emotions flooded him and he broke like a faulty dam. He cried, he screamed, he swore. And George just sat there silently, listening to him, until he stopped.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling right now.. But, Just know I am here. Even if you don’t want to talk. We can just chill.” George said in a genuinely sweet tone. It showed just how much he cared for the other man. His voice laced in pure compassion.

Clay just nodded on the other screen and settled on the couch. He turned on his tv, turning it to max volume, before turning on a song. The soft chords of the stripped version calming down. He leaned into the couch as the chorus played;

_ Cause talk is overrated, lets just vibe. _

_ And love is overrated in my mind. _

_ Girl, talk is overrated lets just vibe. _

_ Just for the night. _

The song filled both of their rooms. Eventually, when it was over Clay was finally ready to speak. Not cry, or yell, or curse the world. But talk.

“You know.. I told them about you once. And they thought you were some thirty-year old creep using a voice changer. It took me a week to convince them that you were real.” He spoke, his voice obviously pained. “But, once I finally did. They would make fun of me for being friends with you.” The man chuckled and moved his dirty blonde hair from his face- another memory coming to him. His friend would always argue that he wasn’t really a dirty blonde, but that’s a memory for another time. “Sometimes they got jealous. They’d say I was replacing them with you, whenever I say I was busy after school they’d make sly comments about me blowing them off to play with you. Which sometimes was true.” He said the memory brought a slight smile to his face.

“That’s sweet. I can tell they meant a lot to you.” George said. It felt like he was walking on tiny shards of glass, trying to get closer to Dream. Close enough to swoop him up and tell him that everything would be okay. That’s all he wanted to do. He hated hearing the pain in Clay’s tone. Usually he talked in such a sweet tone, calm, gentle. Usually a call between the two would be filled with laughter and Clay turning into a tea kettle. But not this one and that terrified George. What if he made a mistake? He wasn’t a therapist. How do you comfort someone dealing with fresh grief? “Do you have any other stories?” He asked.

“There was this one time where we both skipped school and went to their house to chill. We got caught because his mom came home early from work.” Clay started the story and then another and another. 

That went on for hours. Dream rambling on and on about memories he had of them. Until, he ran out. And that’s when he was brutality dragged back to reality. That was it. That was their friendship. There was no making new memories, no more sneaking alcohol at family events, no more smoking weed in the school bathroom. No more hearing their voice form new sentences or teasing him. No more pointless banter? That couldn’t be it. There had to be _ **more**_. He searched his mind. Turned every corner, flipped over every stone. He couldn’t accept it.

“Clay?” George called out to the man that had suddenly gone silent. He heard his signature cheeriness returning to his tone with each memory he recited. Each tale he told he could feel Dream’s smile radiating from through the phone. Then suddenly it was all gone. It was concerning. He knew that Clay was in a fragile state right now, but to see his friend go from being so close to a high back to rock bottom. It was scary.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” Dream said and wiped a stray tear that had rolled down his cheek. Petting the cat that had made its way to curl up in his lap. Patches. “Oh!” He said excitedly. Another memory awakening from deep within his mind. “When I first got patches, they were there. And I almost got a different cat. But they really liked patches and convinced me to adopt her. I was going to get a black cat instead. I’m glad I went with their choice.” He said gently running his hand over Patches’ soft, well kept fur.

George smiled as he heard that excitement. It made him feel warm inside, even though he knew it was just momentarily. “That’s cool.” He said. “I’m glad you picked Patches too. She’s adorable.” He said.

After a while of talking about Patches.. George eventually convinced Dream to get on Hypixel with him. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep a conversation up with him but still wanted to distract him. Distract him from all the pain he was going through.

“Dream. What was that song called?” George asked while moving his avatar to collect materials, they were playing bed wars.

“Talk is overrated. But it was the stripped version, hold on I’ll play it again since you like it.” Clay said and played the song. They liked it too. It reminded him of them, it reminded him of their memories. How that’s all they were now- feelings and memories. 

The two played a couple of games until George was yawning on the voice call. He tried to lie and say he wasn’t tired, but Clay knew him all too well. After a bit of playful bickering, George agreed to go to bed leaving Clay all alone.

Alone with his thoughts.

Clay turned off his computer monitor, got ready for bed, and then laid awake in the darkness of his room. He couldn’t sleep. Not until he went over each and every one of his memories with them. Piece by piece, second by second. Every sentence word for word. Not until he could remember the way the candle smelt like, the exact shade of purple it was, the exact measurements of it, how hot the flame burned. He obsessed over all the fine details of his memories with them throughout the night. Until he drowned in thoughts of them. Eventually, crying himself to sleep. His pillow cool from the moisture of his own sorrow.

But even in his dreams he couldn’t escape their memory.

“They were a fine student, a promising writer, an artistic soul..” He heard someone read their eulogy. It was all wrong, not the things they were saying but it all sounded too robotic. Not like them at all. They were free spirited and wild. They bought out the fire in everyone. He tried to stand up and walk over to snatch the microphone right out of the readers hand, but he was stuck to his seat. He had to watch. He hated every second of it. Hated every second of every word that they spoke. Clay didn’t think it could get worse, but it did.

Total strangers started to tell their memories. The same memories he had told George and went over before he fell into this hell. They told them all and when they were done, they passed the microphone to Clay. “Do you have anything to add?” A ghostly voice asked.

The blonde brought the microphone up to his chap lips, licking them. “Uh...uh..” He said trying to scan his mind for any memories that hadn’t been spoken. New memories. He searched the impossibility of new memories. He stood still, trying desperately to find something- anything. But he couldn’t. It was impossible. “No.” He said handing the microphone back, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Clay jumped up from the nightmare in a cold sweat, looking around his room. None of that had been real, but the message of the dream was very much real. There was no new memories to be made, no new adventures to go on with them.. How could this be? How could someone just be taken from him. It didn’t make sense to him, he couldn’t wrap his thoughts around it. He didn’t want to wrap his mind around it. 

For weeks on end Dream kept returning to that place. That exact same position. Holding a microphone and having nothing to say. Each and every time he said nothing and took his seat, just to wake up, he was trapped in an endless loop. He was helpless.

However, this time felt different. It was different. He wasn’t alone at the funeral. He looked over to see the face of George. That comforted him. At least now he wasn’t alone. That’s what hurt the most about losing them, he felt like he was alone. But George’s presence proved otherwise. When he stepped up to speak, he quickly realized that everything was the same- he still didn’t have any memories to share.

But then he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was George’s hand. He looked over at him in confusion. Before he heard a familiar melody. 

_ Talk is overrated, _

_ Let’s just vibe. _

_ And love is overrated, _

_ In my mind. _

_ Girl, talk is overrated _

_ Lets just vibe. _

_ Just for the night. _

_ I been hella stress, _

_ I would rather chill _

_ Know you look to me , _

_ Wonder how i deal. _

_ But look into my soul, _

_ I don’t need a friend. _

_ Cause really i don’t know, _

_ What the fuck i want.  _

_  
_ The melody filled his dream and he smiled. He realized then- that there memory isn’t all that he had. He had a piece of them forever. A piece of their heart and soul would always be with him, and if he himself couldn’t put that into words that was fine. Talk was overrated anyways. 

  
Clay grabbed George’s hand and the two of them walked out of the building together. For the first time in the months that they had been gone.  _ Dream felt content. _

**Author's Note:**

> I used they/them/their pronouns for Dream's friend because in my mind they are nonbinary. I don't actually have a character completely flushed out for them, as of yet. But I was thinking of possibly making them a fully flushed out character.
> 
> Also hope you all enjoyed the story! It took me about two days to write. Criticism is welcomed! I want to become a better writer and can't do that without critques.
> 
> Final note, if you couldn't tell this is based on a song- talk is overrated by Jeremy Zucker. Specifically the stripped version!


End file.
